


Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

by kairumption (lapmonster)



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Relationships, Community: sooheaven, Dogs, Fic Exchange, Luhan mention, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapmonster/pseuds/kairumption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kyungsoo Do moves out of his parents’ house his third year of college, everything is perfect...Except his neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marcel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcel/gifts).



> Originally written and posted for Marcel on the sooheaven fic exchange and then crossposted on my [livejournal](http://rumwrites.livejournal.com/954.html) c:

When Kyungsoo Do moves out of his parents’ house his third year of college, everything is perfect. The new house isn’t too small or too big, with a kitchen spacious enough for him to dance in while cooking. School is just a quick bike-ride away. His housemates are courteous and friendly, and they have a big TV with a lot of video games (too many, probably, if they want to pass their classes). The neighborhood is beautiful and sprawling, full of old memories and assorted, candy-hued homes like a street of technicolor gingerbread houses. It’s every bit what a college town should be: homey but young and exuberant, colorful and vibrant. His miniature collie Jean came with him in the move, and he loves the place too; there is even a sweet little dog park walking distance from his new house. Everything is perfect.

Except his neighbor.

For one, Chanyeol Park is a giant, which does not endear him to Kyungsoo in the least. Honestly, the fact that the guy could easily press his lips to Kyungsoo’s hairline and then comfortably rest his chin atop his head— _and_ that this is the example of their height difference that pops into his head and makes him shiver with sudden warmth— _offends_ his sensibilities. He is horrified by the idea that his own shoulder-to-shoulder length is ¾ths of the neighbor’s (a generous comparison; if he were to be honest with himself, it’s closer to half). Still managing to be skinny as a rail, Chanyeol is large, everything about him: large frame, large hands, large arms, large feet, large ears, large voice, large...well, _that_ Kyungsoo doesn’t know about for _sure_ and he’s certainly not going to _think_ about it either. Except he does. He thinks about it a lot.

He thinks about _Chanyeol_ a lot. And this occupation of his thoughts also does not endear him to Kyungsoo, much like the occupation of France did not endear the Nazis to the French. Nor do Chanyeol's carelessly tousled (but probably carefully permed), undoubtedly dyed auburn waves; nor the cutest little dimple that comes out to sullenly say hello whenever the big guy _pouts_ —and don’t even get Kyungsoo _started_ on that toothy, open-mouthed laugh...

The truth is, Chanyeol is obnoxiously pretty. Now, Kyungsoo can handle pretty. He’s had to look in the mirror his whole life and have it staring back at him, thank you very much. His housemates Jongin and Baekhyun have the same brand of obscenely effortless beauty (and they don't wear a lot of clothes when they're home), but for some reason _they_ don’t piss Kyungsoo off. Not like Chanyeol does.

But to top it all off, this specimen of apparent human perfection is the most insufferably cheery ray of light. And that’s coming from someone who lives with _Baekhyun Byun_ , who can only be compared to an incessantly shining fluorescent light bulb when speaking in terms of bright personalities. But Chanyeol...Chanyeol is the whole sun. And it’s blinding. At least, that’s what Kyungsoo tells himself is the reason he wants nothing to do with him. That, and the stench of hopeless douchebag on him.

Well, and he also plays the drums. Loudly. At any. Given. Time.

In any case, the simple fact remains that he doesn’t want to be around the guy. In any other case, Chanyeol being his neighbor or his friends’ friend could have given him enough leeway to at least avoid him naturally—but Kyungsoo’s dog likes Chanyeol’s dog, and therein lies the unavoidable problem.

They met serendipitously, although Kyungsoo hadn’t seen it as such. Spontaneously, maybe. By happenstance. Coincidentally. Anything but the “happy accident” a word like “serendipity” entails. Strangely enough and despite the fact that they are indeed neighbors and Chanyeol is indeed Kyungsoo’s friends’ friend, The Fates didn’t even have the decency to ordain it an awkward, “Welcome to the neighborhood, new neighbor!” or “I’ve heard so much about you, new best friend!” but something entirely worse.

It was early morning at the bark park, Kyungsoo in his couldn’t-care-less spectacles and Chanyeol in his jogging clothes. Kyungsoo was looking particularly disheveled: unkempt mop of vividly red hair flopping over his starkly contrasting undercut, glasses slightly askew, and still wearing his oversized sleep shirt with some hastily added worn-out sweats and ratty sneakers—and Chanyeol, of course, set the tone for the remainder of their acquaintance up until now: by looking objectionably handsome.

The dregs of summer were still lingering in this September, the sun defiantly peeking above the horizon despite autumn rearing its drowsy, slow-to-wake head. Chanyeol was radiant beneath that sun, as if its source rather than its recipient; the sheen of sweat from his run glittered like lacquer as he sat with his yellow labrador beneath a tree. Casually seated as he was, staring off into space with an idle hand curling in his dog’s fur, he looked more like a model for some glamorous photoshoot unbeknownst to the rest of the world.

It happened quickly. When he reached the bark park, Kyungsoo had only unhooked Jean’s leash for but a moment and he was speeding off in the stranger’s direction. When Jean reached him, nipping affectionately at the other dog, Chanyeol’s face lit up, eyes bright and wide and excited. Normally so well-mannered and -trained, Jean pounced onto Chanyeol’s chest, slobbering all over his face and eliciting delighted giggles from the latter.

“Sorry!” called Kyungsoo after them, rushing to drag Jean away from the sprawled jogger.

“Nah, man, it’s alright,” he assured him between giggle fits without raising his head to see him, sitting up and ruffling Jean’s fur. “I love dogs, this is basically puppy heaven.” He then addressed Jean, “Good morning,” and flashed a brilliant smile.

For a split second, Kyungsoo’s heart caught in his throat but then the labrador came forward, nosing his hand insistently and he was graciously distracted.

The dog was familiar as Kyungsoo had seen the little guy bounding along the backyard, and his owner was familiar in voice alone: a surprisingly deep, powerful baritone. From the stranger’s elven ears and fine, baby-faced features, Kyungsoo would have expected a more boyish sound coming from him. He had had no idea _this_ was the next-door neighbor from whom he had caught bits of songs traveling between their houses.

Scritching Jean’s ears, Chanyeol finally looked up at Kyungsoo—and made a face as if he had been punched in the gut. He scrambled to his full height, bow-legged and gangly and towering over the other.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he introduced in a rush, thrusting out his hand to shake. His tan, defined arms were free from sleeves and his gray sweatpants were tight around the ankles, loose where it counted—but not quite loose enough that Kyungsoo’s imagination couldn’t easily fill in the blanks. “I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new? You’re Baekhyun and Jongin’s new housemate, aren’t you? Kyungsoo, right?”

Kyungsoo felt the rapid-fire questions as though they were tangible objects pelted at him, shaking his hand cautiously. “Yeah...h-how did you know?” He pressed his forefingers together nervously before he realized he was fidgeting, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Chanyeol grinned sheepishly. “I play the drums.”

“You…?” Kyungsoo screwed up his face in puzzlement. Then it dawned on him—it had been _he_ , Chanyeol, who had been the one causing all the racket for his first days in the house: “Oh. _Oh_.” His voice...somehow he hadn’t put it together yet...

Guiltily, Chanyeol skewed his lips to one side, a dimple surfacing. “Jongdae told me about you. I’m his housemate,” he explained quickly, eyes twinkling with silent laughter as he bent to ruffle Jean’s fur. “And I already met your dog...But Jongdae didn’t say you were, um. Well.” He blushed, realizing where his sentence had been going. Normally his tongue would be quick to compliment a pretty stranger but this one...this one was somehow different.

With narrowed eyes, Kyungsoo asked, “What?” _Short? Small? Narrow-shoulder’d?_ were the conclusions his inner thoughts jumped to.

“Nothing,” said Chanyeol dismissively, wincing. He quickly changed the subject. “So _this_ is your new girlfriend, Eggroll,” he addressed his own dog. “I was wondering where you were running off to.”

“Jean is a boy,” corrected Kyungsoo warily, a little miffed. “As in Jean Valjean,” he added when Chanyeol’s face went blank. “As in _Les Misérables_?”

“ _Oh_. Boyfriend, then,” he amended, sinking to a crouch to see Eggroll at eye level. He continued in a babble: “I’m kinda bummed. See, his name’s technically not really _Eggroll_ , that was just something Sehun called him—Sehun’s our _other_ housemate, sorry—and now he only answers to it. Sehun must have trained him behind my back or something because it just _stuck_. But anyway, his _real_ name is Glen.” He beamed up at Kyungsoo. “After Glen Hansard. You know, the main character from _Once_? Ever seen?”

Kyungsoo only nodded, overwhelmed. He saw why Chanyeol and Baekhyun were friends.

“I was hoping this would be his Markéta,” said Chanyeol shyly, scratching Jean behind the ears.

“I seriously doubt our dogs are romantically involved,” deadpanned Kyungsoo. He didn’t mention the fact that _Once_ didn’t necessarily have a happy ending for its protagonists, nor did he remind him that Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová had broken up in real life.

Chanyeol shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

An awkward silence passed between them. Chanyeol stood again, as Jean and Eggroll/Glen rassled in the grass. He wouldn’t stop staring at Kyungsoo.

“So…” he began, desperate to fill the silence and distract himself, “how did you meet Jongin and Baekhyun?”

“Voice,” replied Kyungsoo simply. Remembering his tendency to be too short with his words, he hastily added, “I’m a voice major. I met Baekhyun and Jongdae through class.”

“Right, of course, Jongdae told me.” He quirked his lips to the side again, the dimple making a comeback. “I’m surprised I didn’t meet you before.” _I’m surprised they didn’t introduce us_ , was the unheard sentence lingering in the air as he continued to gaze at him.

Kyungsoo shifted stiffly, uncomfortable under such scrutiny. At a loss, he felt he needed to fill the silence, elucidating, “I only met Jongin when I first visited the house, to see if I wanted to live there. I’d _heard_ about him before, of course, from Baekhyun.”

Chanyeol smiled knowingly. “He does like to brag.”

Indeed, Baekhyun did. In fact, by the time he mentioned that he was looking for a place to stay near campus, Kyungsoo was half-convinced that Baekhyun had simply made his boyfriend up. There hadn’t been a shred of evidence that he existed, all he had were Baekhyun’s descriptors, and none of them had sounded credible. He sounded more like an oddly specific dream boy than a real person. _Especially_ every time he’d tell a story from rehearsal for the school musical where they had met, saying things like, “His hair fanned out and sweat flew off the ends like a sprinkler."—Cue dreamy sigh—"He looked so cool.”

Exist he did, though, and all of Baekhyun’s gushing hardly did him justice: he had been a sight to behold when Kyungsoo had strolled over the threshold of his soon-to-be new home and found him stretching on the floor in shorts riding up his muscled thighs, short sleeves revealing a subtle farmer’s tan among his already richly dark skin. Fluffy brown hair in his drowsy but still captivating eyes, Jongin had looked up at them with full lips still pursed in concentration. His ridiculously broad shoulders had stretched the old T-shirt close to ripping; Kyungsoo had felt equally painful pangs of envy and attraction.

Kyungsoo’s mouth must have dropped a little, because Baekhyun had barked out a laugh. “This sleep-zombie is Jongin,” he had said in a forcedly exasperated voice bursting with adoration as he had strode over to Jongin where he sat on the floor, fondly blinking up at his boyfriend. Baekhyun had then ruffled Jongin’s hair sweetly, muttering under his breath to him about their _new potential housemate why do you look like you just woke from a nap_. Grinning, he had turned back to Kyungsoo, “I told you I didn’t make him up. Told you he was hot.”

Though obviously embarrassed, Jongin had preened, shyly leaning his flushed cheek against Baekhyun’s thigh. “Hi,” he had greeted, deep voice crackled from sleep.

It hadn’t taken them long to strike up a deal; from the beginning, Kyungsoo had loved the place, and from what he had heard, he was sure he would get along with Jongin—though the latter himself had seemed reluctant at first.

“Do you have anything weird about your stuff?” he had asked after a long bout of silence, as they gave him the grand tour of their bitty house. They had stopped at what would be Kyungsoo’s new room, their old one as their previous housemate, Luhan, had the bigger room before graduating.

“What?” Kyungsoo had asked incredulously.

“Do you have anything weird about your stuff?” he had repeated. “Luhan was weird about his bed. We couldn’t sit on it at all, not even to hang out.”

“N-no…” Kyungsoo had verbally stumbled. “I don’t think so.”

“Also,” Jongin had added, “this one”—he had poked Baekhyun in the cheek—“ _will_ steal your clothes.”

Baekhyun had scrunched up his nose, grabbing Jongin’s hand away from his face but not letting go.

“And he sings,” Jongin had added, a grin overtaking his lips. “ _All the time_. And he _never stops moving_.” With a pointed look, he held up where their hands met, where Baekhyun's thin piano-perfect fingers were drumming against his skin.

Initially, Kyungsoo had expected some sort of test, but this had come as some surprise. He had remained shocked for only a moment, before a grin of his own spread and he had said, “I think I can handle how annoying Baekhyun can get.”

Jongin had smiled at that; Baekhyun had pouted. But then, Jongin’s face had turned stoney, asking in an apparently very serious tone, “What can you bring to this house?”

Kyungsoo had been aghast. “I…” he had begun, a little desperate for a living space. “I can cook and clean.”

“I was _kidding_!” Jongin had exclaimed quickly, the couple rushing forward to put their arms around him.

“ _Mommyyyy_ ,” Baekhyun had cried to Kyungsoo, rubbing his cheek affectionately against his. Then his face had taken on an expression of resolute determination, pulling Kyungsoo closer to his chest and looking up at Jongin to declare, “We’re keeping him.”

“Get off of me,” Kyungsoo had grumbled, secretly pleased. But he had shoved them off all the same—

“Though not about you, apparently,” commented Chanyeol softly, almost as if to himself, as he cocked his head to the side and shifted his grip on Eggroll’s leash, squeezing the fingers of both hands around it. Had Kyungsoo been paying more attention, he may have recognized it as a possible nervous habit.

Consequently, though, Kyungsoo shook himself from the memory, returning back to the present. The present of this hellishly awkward encounter with his unfortunately handsome and increasingly annoying neighbor. His response to Chanyeol’s borderline inappropriate would-be come-on was none other than, “Uh,” and then had nothing further to contribute. Then, just for something to do with his hands, Kyungsoo foraged his pockets and procured a tube of lip balm. All too aware of Chanyeol’s eyes still on him, Kyungsoo shakily uncapped it with a small _pop_ and proceeded to—very innocently—dab at his full lips.

Chanyeol’s mouth went a little slack. Kyungsoo’s ears turned red. _Shit_.

“Hey, uh,” started Chanyeol distractedly as he hooked Eggroll’s leash back to his collar, “you wanna, like, hang out right now? Or something? Grab some coffee?”

It had barely made it out of Chanyeol’s mouth when Kyungsoo was stuttering that he had to leave, calling Jean back to his side and reattaching his leash.

Chanyeol called after him as he left, “Let me make you dinner! You and Jongin and Baekhyun!”

Kyungsoo turned around.

“As a housewarming gift,” he continued. He added hopefully, “I’m a really good cook.”

Kyungsoo knew that if he tried to get Jongin and Baekhyun out of a free meal, they would never forgive him; he would get even, of course, but it probably wouldn’t be good for their budding living situation. So he quietly answered, “Okay,” then scurried off.

Chanyeol stared after him, again with that gut-punched look on his face.

✮☆✮☆✮

“You didn’t tell me he was hot.”

Jongdae looked blearily up at Chanyeol over his textbook as his housemate walked through the doorway and let Eggroll speed off. He opened his mouth to drop the pen from his teeth. “I didn’t tell you _who_ was hot?” he asked before setting his homework aside to pet Eggroll. “Hey there, buddy,” he cooed to the dog.

“Kyungsoo,” answered Chanyeol, plopping down beside him with his back to the armrest.

Their house wasn’t exactly spacious, despite its two stories the adjective “dinky” was still often used, but it was still a mite too large for only three people. The living room, where they sat now, was adjacent to a decently-sized kitchen that was separated by a wall lining the walkway from the front door Chanyeol had come from. Behind the couch was the closet under the stairs (their “Harry Potter cupboard”) where they kept DVD’s and video games that were always a hassle to get to. Chanyeol absently fiddled with the doorknob.

“I didn’t?” said Jongdae, cocking his head quizzically and narrowing his eyes. “ _Pretty_ sure I did. Pretty sure I told you the exact words, ‘tiny and fuckable’.”

“‘Fuckable’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, though, he’s like, _wow_ ,” said Chanyeol emphatically, gesticulating something reminiscent of an explosion with splayed hands. “His eyes and his hair and, and his _lips_...just. I mean. _Wow_.”

What Kyungsoo would have described as “disheveled,” Chanyeol would have dubbed, “morning chic.” The just-rolled-out-of-bed look did wonders for him, red hair catching like flame in the sunlight. Chanyeol had been blown away from the moment he’d looked up at him, framed by the barely risen sun like a scene out of some ultra cheesy romcom. Kyungsoo’s eyes, as Chanyeol had so breathlessly listed among his finest attributes, were huge, wide and bright despite the dark brown of his irises. And his lips? Mesmerizing. Plush and smooth and _enticing_. He’d nearly had an aneurysm when Kyungsoo had put on the chapstick; it was so simply, effortlessly sexy that Chanyeol had thought it was a _move_ , not a nervous habit. But in the end his shyness had only been a plus for Chanyeol. And although “tiny and fuckable” did not quite do the young man justice, Chanyeol couldn’t help but adore his size—and couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted more: to carry him around wherever he went (be it bridal style or piggy-back ride) or have him sit on his face.

But Jongdae only shrugged. “I guess.”

“You _guess_?” Chanyeol stared, at a loss. “You really are a different guy when you have a girlfriend. Liyin has trained you well.”

“Shut up,” replied Jongdae, chucking a pen at his head.

It missed by only a hair, whizzing past Chanyeol’s ear. Before Chanyeol could jump forward for a counterattack, Sehun’s key turned the lock and he carefully tip-toed inside.

Chanyeol leaned back so he could see the entrance, deadpanning with eyes rolling back in his head, “We’re awake, we already know you spent the night at Zitao’s.”

Sehun winced, swore, then slung his backpack to the floor and slipped off his shoes before joining them in the living room. “It’s the asscrack of dawn, why are you awake?” he demanded, nudging Eggroll from his spot on the couch and pushing Jongdae’s legs out of the way. The dog whined, resting his whiskered chin on Sehun’s knee from his new, unwanted spot on the floor.

Chanyeol and Jongdae promptly responded in tandem: “Class.”

Groaning, Chanyeol leaned back over the arm of the couch again, hands dangling and whispering over the floor. “It’s a human right’s violation to have _percussion_ this early in the morning. I swear to God, I am _this_ close to gagging myself with a marimba mallet.”

Trying not to smile, Sehun quipped in the most deadpan, sardonic tone he could muster, “You’re going to deep-throat your marimba mallet. I knew you were going through a dry spell, Chanyeol, but that’s a little extreme.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, sitting up. “It is _also_ a human rights violation for _you to be a little shit_ this early in the morning.” He then gave the both of them an accusatory glare. Jongdae, who had just been laughing his ass off, widened his eyes in pseudo-innocent shock as if to say, _Who! Moi?_ “ _And_ that I am the only one single in this house. How did this even _happen_?” he cried out melodramatically, flinging himself back over the couch arm.

“You ran out of people to seduce, for one,” offered Jongdae, standing and gathering up his school things.

Chanyeol sat with a snap again. “That’s not fair. Those were legitimate dates. And relationships.”

“Whatever you say, player,” said Jongdae dismissively, shoving everything into his questionable man-handbag.  
Chanyeol’s pout-dimple showed itself and Jongdae poked it on his way out. “See you later,” he threw over his shoulder. He abruptly stopped at the door. “Oh! Were we supposed to busk next weekend?”

“Yeah,” replied Chanyeol.

“I can’t go,” said Jongdae apologetically, but then he waggled his eyebrows at Chanyeol. “ _I_ have a _date_.” He then left with a last wave.

Chanyeol grumbled for a moment then jolted, remembering: “Oh! I invited Kyungsoo, Jongin and Baekhyun over for dinner!” He yelled after, though he knew he already couldn’t hear.

“You met Kyungsoo?” asked Sehun, leaning forward and tucking his legs criss-cross-apple-sauce beneath him. “He’s hot, right?”

“ _Thank_ you,” said Chanyeol with exaggerated gestures, as if proving a point to the absent Jongdae. “But you’ve met him too? How did you and Jongdae meet him but _I_ didn’t?”

“I don’t know, to keep you from deflowering him?”—Chanyeol hit him, Sehun blocked—“Guy’s got a great ass though.”

“Don’t be crass, Sehun,” snapped Chanyeol, attempting to hit him again.

“Whoa, what’s your deal all of a sudden? Wait a minute,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes, his arms still hovering in a defensive move. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “You’re not, like, interested in him, are you? Like, _interested-interested_?”

Chanyeol choked a little on his own tongue. “No.”

“ _Chanyeol_ …”

“Alright, so _maybe_ I asked him out for coffee. So what? I’m a healthy young man, I’m allowed to have _interests_.”

“I _know_ Baekhyun told you he was off-limits, they’ve been looking for a housemate for months,” scolded Sehun, though his heart wasn’t in it. Mostly he was entertained. “You can’t go ruining this for them by breaking the new guy’s heart.”

“That was before I _saw_ him…and anyway, he turned me down.” He then did a double-take. “What makes you say I’ll break his heart!?”

Sehun shot him a look. “Come on, Jongdae already said it. You’re a player.”

“I am _not_ ,” he protested adamantly. “Maybe I’ve just been, you know...looking for The One, or whatever.”

Dumbstruck, Sehun stared at him for a moment...and then burst out laughing.

Chanyeol blushed scarlet. “Sh-shut up…”

“You think Kyungsoo is _The One_?” asked Sehun between dying giggles, tears in his eyes.

“No! I don’t know!” shouted Chanyeol defensively. “Whatever, fuck you.” He quickly added, standing, “I’m gonna be late, and I still have to shower.”

“Yeah,” chuckled Sehun, pinching his nose dramatically. “You stink…”

“Don’t say it,” interrupted Chanyeol.

“...of _love_!” he finished.

Chanyeol groaned, “You’re the worst, that wasn’t even _clever_ ,” then threw a pillow in Sehun’s direction and began to trudge his way to the stairs to shower. Stumbling, he ran back as he remembered something: “ _Don’t_ tell Jongdae!”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he replied, an evil grin splitting his face as he held out an upturned hand. “For twenty bucks, that is.” He gestured impatiently. “Pony up, cowboy.”

Chanyeol reluctantly took out his wallet.

✮☆✮☆✮

After dropping Jean off back at home and changing, Kyungsoo resumed his day normally, if not a little shook up. It had been far too early for such a slew of compliments and would-be flirtations, and it unfortunately affected him. All throughout the day, in every class, Kyungsoo’s mind seemed to wander, meandering its little way back to Chanyeol in that sleeveless shirt and those little-to-the-imagination sweatpants. When he put him on “mute,” he was cute—because any time Daydream Chanyeol opened his mouth, something Real Chanyeol would say came out. This made daydreaming with any sort of satisfaction very difficult.

Not that daydreaming about Chanyeol was his desire...or anything...like that…

He spent much of the day groaning at himself. He didn’t want to like Chanyeol, and he _didn’t_ , because there was that something about him that screamed _bad idea!_ , much like that something about him that screamed _desperate hornball!_ So what if their dogs liked each other? So what if he was friends...with all his friends…?

So what if he was so good-looking Kyungsoo’s stomach did backflips?

When he got home he was even more drained than usual, blinking hard over his oxygen-deprived eyes begging to be rid of their contact lenses. Jean was there to greet him jovially when he strolled inside, pocketing his keys. He patted his head obligingly, but muttered under his breath, “This is all your fault, I hope you know.”

Jean cocked his head to the side and opened his mouth in a smile that looked almost cheeky, as if he knew. Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes at the dog before he bounded off back into the living room where he had come from. He followed him.

Lo, there lay Jongin, in a position much like the one he was in when Kyungsoo had met him: stretching. That was, until Jean distracted him. Then he just did something akin to melting, forgetting his stretching to curl round the canine like he was a fluffy space heater.

Baekhyun was on the couch, fingers tapping out a beat on his thigh as he perused his performance homework. He looked up, nodding in dismissive acknowledgement to Kyungsoo, obviously rapt.

Kyungsoo didn’t mind, striding past them toward the kitchen.

As Kyungsoo turned away from them, Jongin sat up and stated simply, “So you met Chanyeol,” making him jump.

Startled, Kyungsoo turned and asked, “How did you know?”

Glancing up from the papers on his lap, Baekhyun answered for him, “You have a haunted look in your eyes.”

“He _called_ ,” corrected Jongin, shooting Baekhyun a somewhat withering look. He turned back to Kyungsoo. “I’m guessing he hit on you?”

Kyungsoo nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah,” interjected Baekhyun thoughtfully, looking him up and down, “if Chanyeol had a type, it’d be you.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” continued Jongin. “Flirting is like breathing to Chanyeol. He just needs a firm hand.”

Behind him, Baekhyun coughed as though attempting to quell overpowering laughter. He failed, dissolving into fits of giggles. Jongin gave him another look. “Oh come _on_ ,” sputtered Baekhyun. “ _You_ said it.”

Jongin’s cheeks burned and he looked a little tight-lipped as though he were also trying not to laugh, but he turned his attention back to Kyungsoo anyway. “The _point_ is, you shouldn’t let it bother you,” he started forcefully. “He’s harmless. And he’ll back off eventually.”

“That being said,” began Baekhyun before looking up and folding his thin fingers over his lap. “Jonginnie and I are going to rehearsal for _Singin’ in the Rain_ tonight, so we rainchecked dinner with Chanyeol.”

But then—“You’re leaving?” demanded Kyungsoo, a little panicky. “What if he comes over?”

Baekhyun tilted his head, apparently amused. “It’s like Jongin said, he’s harmless.” He then smirked, adding (a little sinisterly), “He only bites when asked.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes then glared menacingly; Baekhyun flinched in some sort of Pavlovian response. He’d experienced too many Kyungsoo-induced dead arms to not live in constant fear of a retaliatory punch.

He cleared his throat and tried to deflect the conversation in another direction. “I’d leave Jongin here to chaperone you if I could. _He_ has to go practice with _Prima Ballerina Krystal Soojung Jung_ ,” he said the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, every syllable punctuated with something a little milder than disgust. There was a teasing smile on his face, but Kyungsoo suspected his jealousy was, at least in part, genuine. Baekhyun turned on Jongin. “You kiss her yet?”

Jongin slumped uncomfortably. “It’s the choreography...” he told him, embarrassed. It wasn’t an answer. He got up and walked over, playfully cuffing his ear. “ _You_ kiss Sunny even _more_.”

“That’s different,” protested Baekhyun, grabbing Jongin’s hand and pouting.

“Mmmhmm,” hummed Jongin skeptically, though he leaned in and kissed the flush rising over Baekhyun’s neck.

Kyungsoo felt a little ill watching them. “I’ll go make us dinner then,” he deadpanned loudly, quickly leaving the room and contemplating the real drawbacks of living with a couple.

After a quick dinner, once the lovebirds had left for practice, Chanyeol did indeed pay Kyungsoo a visit right when he was in the middle of some practicing himself. Jean bounded right on up to the threshold, well-trained enough not to bark but looking ecstatic. Kyungsoo cleared his throat before opening the door.

“Hi,” greeted Chanyeol, already a little breathless in his presence. He distracted himself by leaning down to pet Jean.

Kyungsoo awkwardly responded in kind.

Chanyeol cut to the chase, gripping onto the door frame for moral support. “I know dinner didn’t work out tonight, but I was wondering if you wanted to have a little doggy play date sometime, for Jean and Eggroll. Glen. Whatever. I think they’d enjoy it.”

 _Great_. Now if Kyungsoo refused he’d look like a prick. Very cunning, Chanyeol. Score one for Chanyeol. He agreed, albeit a little solemnly, and in such a way that showed on Chanyeol’s face that he wasn’t satisfied.

“Um, well. Anyway,” he began, holding up his cell phone. “I would have texted or called, but I don’t have your number, so…”

“Oh.” _God dammit_. Kyungsoo reluctantly swiped Chanyeol’s phone when he offered it, brutally punching in the numbers before shoving it into Chanyeol’s chest.

He didn’t seem to mind, grinning like a fool in a way that made Kyungsoo’s insides perform gymnastics ( _again_ ). He then waved him goodnight and wished him sweet dreams.

Kyungsoo stood rooted to the spot until Jean licked his fingers and brought him back to the present.

✮☆✮☆✮

It wasn’t until later in the week that Chanyeol realized he hadn’t _actually_ set up a date and time for this “doggy play date” scheme. _At least I got his number_ , he grumbled to himself upon this realization. He was grateful he hadn’t gone through his typical scheme of moves: swipe the other’s phone from them, punch in his number and take a cute selfie for the contact profile pic (this method worked 9 times out of 10)—because then he doubted Kyungsoo would have ever actually called him, and then where would he be?

Setting a date and time turned out to not be as painful a process as he thought it would be. Kyungsoo on the other line, however, was suffering because _Chanyeol’s voice over the phone sounded like how chocolate tasted_ , but they were able to meet very soon indeed—but not until after some very awkward exchanges on campus.

Kyungsoo was very curious as to how he managed to get through two years of school without spotting Chanyeol once and now, neighbors _and_ passing each other on a huge university campus multiple times almost every day. Had the stars aligned to screw him over?

The first time wouldn’t have been so bad, if Chanyeol hadn’t pointed at him with finger pistols and gone, “‘ _Eyyy!_ ” in greeting across the quad. Kyungsoo’s ears had been so red they looked like smoke was about to come curling out of them.

“ _Why are you like this_ ,” he muttered under his breath, reaching Chanyeol in a few strides.

“Hmm?” hummed Chanyeol innocently.

Ears that big and he hadn’t heard? Sure. “Nothing,” responded Kyungsoo bitingly. He begrudgingly asked without inflection, “How are you.”

Chanyeol bobbed his head, beaming. “Good. Eggroll can’t wait to hang out with you and Jean.”

With nothing to say, Kyungsoo thinned his lips and puffed out his cheeks.

This. Kept. Happening.

Except they started talking. About everything. About movies, and music, Jongin and Baekhyun and Jongdae and even Sehun. Chanyeol spoke (bragged, really. But for once, Kyungsoo didn’t seem to mind) of his playing nearly every instrument under the sun; Kyungsoo responded, with some enthusiasm, about his silent interest in the guitar, his curious plunkings on Baekhyun’s piano. They found they liked a lot of the same things, shared the same passions. They managed to fill the awkward silences with stirring conversation. Even when they did finally meet up for that doggy date, they miraculously hadn’t run out of things to talk about, and Kyungsoo suspected that that would never happen.

And it was also about then that Kyungsoo came to the horrifying conclusion that, had he met Chanyeol under even slightly different circumstances, he would have gone home with him that day.

“You ever busked before?” asked Chanyeol, jolting Kyungsoo out of his reverie as they strolled to the park, leashed dogs trotting their way down the street in front of them.

“Huh?” he said, jumping slightly. “Oh, no.”

Chanyeol worried his bottom lip through his teeth, cheek dimpling before speaking, “You want to?”

Kyungsoo cocked his head to the side. “With you and the gang? Jongin, Baekhyun, Jongdae, _and_ Sehun? Isn’t that a bit of a crowd?” he laughed.

“Nah, it’d be great. Jongin and Sehun mostly just dance, though we’ve done some great rap breaks. And Jongdae’s got a _date_ this weekend so he won’t even be there. But you’ve got an amazing voice, so I thought, I don’t know, that you should join.”

Kyungsoo blushed.

“I heard you, um, practicing,” explained Chanyeol. “It carries. I thought you were Baekhyun at first, actually, but there’s something, I don’t know, smoother about it?” He shrugged. “It’s nice.”

Kyungsoo had heard of thunderstruck, moonstruck, dumbstruck—never had he heard of someone being _grin_ struck, but there he was, the corners of his lips lifting like they had minds of their own.

Chanyeol cleared his throat, trying to rush away from his compliment as fast as he could. “Now, you don’t have to actually join. What I mean is, you don’t actually have to _do_ anything with us yet, I mean we haven’t all rehearsed together or anything, but...you could still come this weekend. I’d like you...to come, I mean.” Chanyeol gave a little laugh. “You could be our spy in the crowd.”

Despite his best efforts, that grin stayed on Kyungsoo’s face. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, alright.”

✮☆✮☆✮

Busking day came sooner than Kyungsoo had anticipated. The days between blurred in a flurry of homework and studying, applying for jobs, and these pockets of time that highlighted his evenings home: pockets filled with Chanyeol.

Next door neighbors though they were, they still didn’t see each other often outside of their doggy dates and chance glances at school, and before they had actually met Kyungsoo had learned to easily block out the loud neighbor but now...Now that he had thrust himself to the forefront of Kyungsoo’s mind, Chanyeol stood out. On the nights he had to stay up late studying, Kyungsoo found himself listening for Chanyeol, to see if he had made it home. Or he’d bob his head in time to the drumset beats. Sometimes, when he peeked out the hallway window he could see a half-naked Chanyeol in his room spinning about in something akin to a dance. From his own bedroom, Kyungsoo could hear Chanyeol rap in the shower. And he couldn’t catch distinct words, but when Chanyeol was talking with Jongdae and Sehun, Kyungsoo could hear that deep voice, and the laugh that traveled the distance between houses.

He found himself waiting for these pockets of time; caught himself smiling at any hint of Chanyeol.

Needless to say, Kyungsoo wasn’t in the best mood come busking day. Although everyone else’s high spirits were infectious, Kyungsoo’s disdain showed more sour than he wanted. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes glaring. Their planted spy looked more like a potential heckler than someone who would encourage generous donations to the open guitar case in front of them. He did his job, though, dropping in a five dollar bill for show. (Chanyeol had promised he’d get it back; Kyungsoo didn’t actually believe him, but he did it anyway.)

Deserving of those five dollars, however, they did sound and look good. Kyungsoo couldn’t deny that. They had set up in the main square, during the town’s quaint farmer’s market and had pulled quite the crowd to watch them.

Chanyeol was on guitar, Baekhyun on keyboard, Jongin and Sehun dancing in sync on a mat beside them. It didn’t take long for Kyungsoo to join in with the crowd’s clapping. Everything was going well, in fact Baekhyun had even suggested he break out some tap moves, when Sehun slipped—his ankle went wonky, rolling wrong; he fell on his shoulder. The crowd, and the performers alike, all gasped in unison.

Jongin instantly dropped to a crouch, asking him if he was okay and inspecting the ankle. Sehun protested that he was _fine, no big deal, guys, seriously_ , but when he stood he couldn’t put weight on it.

Baekhyun stepped forward from behind his piano. “Oh, no you don’t, we’re taking you to the hospital,” he said firmly, twirling car keys on a finger.

“I’m _fine_ ,” ground out Sehun, but then Jongin and Baekhyun both hooked each of his arms around their shoulders and he reluctantly limped with them.

Jongin sent Kyungsoo an apologetic look as Baekhyun turned to Chanyeol to do the same. “Sorry, I’ll come to clean up as soon as I can,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of his keyboard setup.

“The Phoenix”—the name of his van, God save him—“will fit everything, take your time,” said Chanyeol.

He glanced at Kyungsoo in the crowd, then out among the unfamiliar faces. They were starting to leave, uncomfortable in the wake of injury. Chanyeol was at a loss. Should he keep playing? He had busked alone, but all four of them was a hard act to follow. He sat down with his guitar on his lap, trying not to let the several people leaving bother him. His mind went blank, something that rarely happened, as if suddenly he had never heard or learned a song before in his life. He looked back up at the crowd, a nervous smile in place of his general charm.

He and Kyungsoo made eye contact, and Chanyeol must have sent some sort of telepathic SOS because—

 _“I wanna be a billionaire...So freakin’ bad.”_ The dispersing crowd turned, enraptured by the sudden siren sound of Kyungoo’s song. He widened his eyes insistently at Chanyeol, eyebrows jerking up as if to say, _Play your part._ He continued, some attitude leaking into the lyrics, _“Buy all of the things I never had.”_

Chanyeol shook himself from shock, fingers finding their proper place on his guitar. Kyungsoo knew he had known this song, and as he came forward, still singing, Kyungsoo had to fight the smile from overtaking his face. Chanyeol grinned in kind.

When Kyungsoo made his way to his rightful place by his side, Chanyeol leaned over and whispered to him, lips brushing his ear, “And the spy saves the day.”

Kyungsoo’s voice nearly faltered, but he held strong and patted Chanyeol’s thigh appreciatively. The crowd stayed, swaying in time with them and more money filled the guitar case as they sang on. When the song ended and they geared up for a new one, Chanyeol whispered in his ear once again, “Thank you.”

Kyungsoo beamed up at him, sliding into a new song and catching the other off-guard once again, like he always seemed to do.

✮☆✮☆✮

“Hey,” greeted Jongin when he poked his head into Chanyeol’s house, a newly bandaged Sehun in tow. “Baekhyun dropped us off.”

Chanyeol nodded, opening the door wider for them to enter. Sehun lumbered his way toward the stairs, clearly annoyed with his new crutches.

“You want help?” offered Jongin, resting a hand gingerly at his back.

“I can make it up the _stairs_ ,” he snapped, his lisp coming out in frustration.

Jongin held his hands up in surrender. Then he turned to Chanyeol. “Did the keyboard go home with Kyungsoo?”

“Yep,” responded Chanyeol, then he sighed. “He saved the day, actually. We sang together. It was...it was really great. Kind of phenomenal. _And_ we made _bank._ ”

Jongin grin went lopsided. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Questioning my motives?” teased Chanyeol, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s ‘The One’!” called back Sehun on his ascent. “Chanyeol said so!”

“Hey!” cried Chanyeol indignantly, jumping to the barrister and leaning over it to yell at the traitor. “I paid good money for that to be kept secret!”

Sehun turned, that characteristic villainous smile returning. “You only said ‘Don’t tell Jongdae,’ there was no mention of Jongin or anyone else.”

Chanyeol pressed his forehead to the railing, letting out a growl of frustration before righting himself. “Next time we’re drawing up a contract.”

“I’ll find a loophole,” chortled Sehun.

Chanyeol stood to his full height, arms petulantly folded over his chest again. “Yes,” he admitted, answering Jongin’s question. “I _really_ like him.”

Jongin looked about ready to bust his gut he was trying so hard not to laugh at him. “‘The One’?”

“Shut _up_ ,” ground out Chanyeol.

Jongin shrugged, sobering a moment. “If you really like him, let me give you a little advice.”

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion, but reluctantly said, “I’m listening.”

“You know what made you a player?” asked Jongin. He continued before Chanyeol could protest, “You weren’t _sincere_. You were a good boyfriend, on paper. You did everything by the book. Dinner, movie, flowers, cuddles. You did what was expected of you, not because you necessarily wanted to, but because you knew it would get you what you wanted. You didn’t _mean_ any of it, not really. You were always guarded.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s time to go off-script.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Chanyeol responded, “You...are weirdly sagely sometimes.” 

Jongin shrugged. 

He smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, man.”

Jongin nodded, hugged him, then left him to consider his off-script options.

✮☆✮☆✮

Which brings us to now: the housewarming dinner with the respective neighboring housemates, finally. Dinner, of course, has always been written in the script. It was an inevitable that Kyungsoo had no hope of avoiding, but at this point he is resigned to the fact that Chanyeol is rapidly becoming his best friend. He doesn’t let it go any further than that, he likes to think he’s very fervent on that front. He just wondered when feelings became trench warfare.

The truth is, Chanyeol has already reached his heart, like some infectious disease diagnosed too late. And maybe it is written. Kyungsoo won’t believe it, though; he’d rather guard his heart than let Chanyeol in. Too late now. Not that he knew yet.

As it turns out, Chanyeol actually is a fairly decent cook, much to Kyungsoo’s bitter dismay because _how dare he_. And the atmosphere is pleasant, in a way that Kyungsoo knows he shouldn’t be surprised about, giggling and teasing and making Sehun laugh so hard soda comes out of his nose.

After, they gather in the living room, shuffling furniture to get to their Harry Potter cupboard. There is much useless deliberation over whether they play a CD on the sound system, watch a movie, or play a video game. Once a consensus is actually reached—CD—Chanyeol has finished his first beer, and is moving back toward the kitchen, knowing the decision of _which one_ will take longer than it will to actually listen to it. Baekhyun, on sharp alert despite sitting comfortably in Jongin’s lap with legs draped over Jongdae’s thighs as well, asks for a cocktail. Both Jongin and Kyungsoo have an early start the next day and are planning to leave relatively early, so rather than see this as a time where he is abandoned by his friends, Baekhyun decides to make the best of it and get kinda wasted.

“You always drink all my booze,” complains Chanyeol, still sauntering from the room..

Baekhyun grins toothily up at him. “ _So do you_ ,” he replies in sing-song. He has a point.

When he comes back with two new drinks, Chanyeol sees Kyungsoo sitting at one of the chairs beside the couch, Chanyeol’s guitar resting on his thighs. Chanyeol tries not to trip and spill on his way to Baekhyun.

Kyungsoo jumps a little at his reappearance. He pushes the guitar back to Chanyeol. “Sorry,” he says, “I was just curious.”

“Go ahead,” says Chanyeol obligingly, holding up his hands (and beer) with surprisingly convincing nonchalance. Because Kyungsoo looks _damn good_ with a guitar. His hands are small but masculine, experimentally stroking at the strings in such a pretty, tentative way that Chanyeol can’t help the desire to have Kyungsoo play _him_ like that. Then Kyungsoo’s lips purse in concentration and Chanyeol needs a moment of self-reflection.

He takes another gulp from his bottle, trying his best to not look too wistful, or directly at Kyungsoo. He hands Baekhyun his drink, then moves to sit on the floor, absently tracing shapes into the carpet.

He has it bad. For _fuck’s sake_ , he has it bad. He has it so bad that for one wild moment, he actually seriously considers finger-writing “Kyungsoo + Chanyeol forever” in a little heart, but decides against it. He sighs, that higher-pitched, long-suffering kind of sigh directly linked with romantic troubles.

This makes Jongdae, from where he’s seated and in conversation with Jongin and Baekhyun about _Singin’ in the Rain_ , perk up in recognition. He practically _meerkats_ at Chanyeol, hands up at his chest in anticipation. Chanyeol sees him from the corner of his eye, wincing. With exaggerated movements, he wipes away the images in the carpet in an attempt to distract focus.

Jongdae doesn’t drop it, watching him in his peripheral vision.

Chanyeol thinks he’s safe when Jongdae goes back to his conversation (he and Baekhyun are just tipsy enough by now that the topic has narrowed to the very pressing importance of Gene Kelly’s ass), but far from it. Kyungsoo is still fiddling at his guitar, and it’s at about half a minute after Jongdae has ended his penetrative stare that Chanyeol chances a glance in his direction.

He’s just finishing up when Chanyeol looks at him. Kyungsoo meets his eyes, a shy smile gracing his angelic features. Chanyeol is both rapt and a little hazy-eyed as he watches him. Kyungsoo hunches his shoulders slightly, removing the guitar from his lap. “Thanks,” he says quietly, and sets it back in his case. Chanyeol nods, looking away again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chanyeol continues watching him. He looks interested in the topic being discussed on the couch, but before moving from his spot, Kyungsoo runs a hand through his hair. Chanyeol, involuntarily, sighs appreciatively.

“Aha!” exclaims Jongdae from the couch.

Chanyeol flinches, turning slowly to look at his tormentor. “‘ _Aha!_ ’ what?” he asks warily.

“You, sir, have got it _bad_ ,” announces Jongdae.

Sehun, from his perch on the only other chair in the room, freezes. When Chanyeol looks at him, he shakes his head ever so slightly. It wasn’t him.

“All that wistful sighing? You’ve been bitten by the _love bug_.”

“Gross,” is Chanyeol’s instant reaction.

“It’s good to see that you’re actually interested in someone,” continues Jongdae. He said “someone,” that means he didn’t realize it was Kyungsoo. At least in that sense he was in the clear, although he was the only one in the room who didn’t know that, and therefore the more likely to put his foot in his mouth. “You didn’t used to get tied down.”

Now it’s Chanyeol’s turn to freeze. He looks up at Kyungsoo, who seems significantly more rigid than normal as well. From his vantage point on the floor, Chanyeol feels like he’s in one of those archaic surgery theatres and everyone was watching his insides being taken out.

He started laughing nervously. “You make me sound like a slut or something, Jongdae. It wasn’t, like, one night stands, I mean I _dated_ …” he reasons, eyes darting to gauge Kyungsoo’s reaction at any interval.

“I don’t know, man, there were a lot of girls…”

“And guys!” blurts out Chanyeol, throwing a glance in Kyungsoo’s direction again. “Guys too.”

Jongdae eyes him. “Yeah,” he agrees slowly, a little confused about why Chanyeol was getting so defensive. “Mostly girls, though. You even preyed on international students. Remember when we went to orientation—”

“ _Yes_ , I remember how we met our housemates’ respective international romances,” quips Chanyeol.

“You chatted Zitao the _hell_ up,” chimes in Sehun. Chanyeol shot him a _You’re really not helping at all_ look.

“I mean, I guess. But we were never a _thing_ ,” he says nervously. “We’re just friends now. And besides, he introduced you”—he pointed at Jongdae—“to Liyin and he’s Sehun ‘Dirty Mandarin Talk’ partner now so.”

“I’m just saying,” adds Jongdae. “Maybe you’re breaking from your douche shell.”

Next to him, Kyungsoo looks about ready to shoot lasers out of his eyeballs. He looks to Jongin and Jongin _actually jumped_ in fright. “I’m going home now.” Jongin agrees to follow after, if only because he felt denying might put him at risk for getting two burn holes shot right through him.

It isn’t until Kyungsoo is home that he realizes Chanyeol wasn’t staring off into space, but at _him_.

✮☆✮☆✮

The thought that Chanyeol could be “serious” about Kyungsoo is completely unfathomable and absurd to him. Chanyeol is rarely serious about anything, least of all people. These thoughts swim through his mind as he gets ready for bed. He slips under the covers and makes himself a cocoon of blankets, slowly but surely drifting off to sleep…

Kyungsoo is slow to wake, still half asleep when he registers that someone has crawled into his bed. Foreign hands find his waist, arms circling around. A warm breath ghosts over Kyungsoo’s shoulder and neck, growing closer until soft lips collide with the skin below his ear.

Kyungsoo’s breath hitches; his first instinct would usually be to fight tooth and nail to get who _ever_ this is out of his bed, get their hands off...his hips...but he’s still more asleep that awake, and it feels so nice and—

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” he sighs soft like a song, moaning so quietly it hardly comes out more than a breath. Eyes still closed, though, Kyungsoo frowns quizzically. They aren’t what he expected, these fingers. They are soft, pads firm but uncalloused, thin and long—the hands of a pianist, not someone who’s abused them with finger-picking ruthless guitar strings or the vibrating shock of course wooden drumsticks.

Luckily, the intruder doesn’t seem to notice, and answers back, “Jongin…”

_Baekhyun._

Kyungsoo leaps up from the bed, tripping and knocking over the lamp before his back collides with the wall. He’s breathing heavy, now suddenly too awake. _Oh my God, why did I say_ Chanyeol _?!_

Baekhyun looks blearily up at him in the dark. “Well if you’re not _in the mood_ ,” he slurs, dropping his head onto Kyungsoo’s pillow and curling up in a ball. He only makes a few, puppy-like whimpers before he’s out like a light.

Kyungsoo’s heart is still pounding when Jongin runs into the room to investigate the commotion. He’s still so flustered, all he does is point at the sleeping Baekhyun.

Jongin guffaws despite himself. “Sorry about that. This used to be our room, remember? He probably thought you were me.” He pauses, leaning down over his hopeless boyfriend. “He didn’t _assault_ you or anything, did he? He’s kind of a horny drunk…”

“N-no…” he half-lies.

“I figured as much. You probably would have punched him across the room if that were the case.” He then scoops Baekhyun up bridal-style, tilting his head to lean against his temple. “Hup! Come on, Baek.” He turns back to Kyungsoo. “Sweet dreams.”

Kyungsoo nods dumbly, and lies awake for the rest of the night.

✮☆✮☆✮

“He’s avoiding me,” expresses Chanyeol, unleashing Eggroll as he steps into the house, back from his evening walk.

Sehun, at this point, knows well enough that typically when Chanyeol says “he,” the poor fool is talking about Kyungsoo. He’s sitting on the couch with Zitao and they’re watching Zitao’s itty bitty puppy Candy struggle to take off her bow. Eggroll goes over to her and sniffs. If a golden retriever could frown inquisitively, Eggroll certainly does. He looks back to his owner with big eyes as if to say, _Is this a real dog?_

Chanyeol almost answers no, but instead greets Zitao.

“He’s not avoiding you,” sighs Sehun exasperatedly.

“ _Yes, he is_ ,” he says adamantly. “We always walk our dogs the same way, meet up and go to the park. But it’s been days since the dinner and he’s been taking a different route every time. When I do talk to him, he barely says anything. I bet it’s all because _Jongdae_ went and—”

Speak of the devil: “Jongdae went and what?” he interrupted.

Chanyeol turned to look at the culprit, coming back from the kitchen. “Nothing,” he mutters. “I gotta go...go off-script.” He puts his jacket back on, and leaves the house in a flurry.

“What was that all about?” asked Jongdae.

Sehun only shook his head.

Kyungsoo is the one to open the door when Chanyeol reaches his house, reluctantly opening the door wider to let him in.

Chanyeol frowns. Someone else usually greets him at the door. “Jean’s not here? Jongin and Baekhyun?”

“They’re at the _Singin’ in the Rain_ wrap party. Jean's outside,” he explains calmly. He adds, incredulous, “Did you _run_ here?”

Chanyeol only nods, shucking off his jacket. “I came to apologize,” he adds, turning to face him and walking backward as they make their way to the living room.

Kyungsoo’s cheeks burn. “About?”

“Jongdae. He was exaggerating and it’s really, it’s really not like that anymore.” Chanyeol skews his lips to the side, bringing out the dimple and Kyungsoo wonders if he’s doing this on purpose. “Look, he was being a tool, but he was right about one thing: I am serious about someone. He just didn’t realize it was about you.”

It feels as though Kyungsoo’s stomach drops through the floor. He says nothing, not sure if he can believe or trust Chanyeol...even as much as he wants to.

Chanyeol fills the silence anyway. “Jongin told me to go off-script. Well, I’m _going the fuck off-script_ ,” he half-mutters, half-yells, hands on his hips and a bit of a crazy look in his eyes. He puts his hands together, fidgeting and slotting the fingers together before untwisting them and retwisting them. “I have a confession to make.”

Kyungsoo takes a step back, eyeing him warily. “Whaaat?”

He takes a deep, dramatic breath, and now he’s _really_ scaring Kyungsoo. He admits, “I...I like ferrets.”

Kyungsoo stares, at a loss.

“When I was a kid, I had a ferret, and a little carrier, and I was in a ferret club. I try to hide it because I was a fat loser who just loved ferrets so much and it’s really...it’s not good for my image and I…” He’s losing confidence under Kyungsoo’s unyielding stare, but he manages to blurt out, “I have a secret file folder of just cute pictures of ferrets hidden on my laptop. Like _porn_.”

Then Kyungsoo bursts out into high-pitched, squeally laughter, right in Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol shrinks, shoulders slumped with obvious regret. “That’s it?” says Kyungsoo breathlessly, wiping away tears and doubled over. He’s laughing so hard his stomach hurts. “‘I like ferrets’? That’s your big reveal?” He finally settles down, asking, “What’s wrong with liking ferrets? They’re cute.”

“Right!?!?!?” exclaims Chanyeol, on-edge. “Oh my god, don’t get me started, I’m such a dweeb…” He tries to run off, but Kyungsoo grabs his sleeve. “Look, I’m sorry, I know you can’t stand me—”

“That’s not true—”

“Jongin told me to go ‘off-script’ if I really wanted this to work. And I do. I want this to work, but if you don’t like me...then just _tell_ me. I’m not going to do anything dramatic like move away or whatever, but I’ll stay out of your hair.”

Kyungsoo sighs angrily, his grip on Chanyeol’s sleeve tightening. “Maybe it’s time for me to go off-script too. The truth is...the truth is, I _like_ being your neighbor. I like knowing when you’re home safe. I like that I can just peek over to your room and see your God awful dancing. I fucking hate it, but I like hearing you practice drums. I like hearing you rap in the shower. I love how your voice carries from across the way. Especially your laugh.” He takes a deep breath. “And I love that it feels like there’s no distance between us at all.”

“What else do you love?” asks Chanyeol so quietly.

He says it before it can get stuck in his throat: “I love _you_.”

Then Chanyeol suddenly finds himself pressing into Kyungsoo’s space, forehead resting against his and arms on either side of him, hands seeking purchase on the wall behind. Kyungsoo sits heavily as Chanyeol walks him back against the couch, caging him. But it’s then that Chanyeol’s mind stops dead, wiped blank. He was going to kiss Kyungsoo, he’s sure of it, but now he’s a little lost. He’s looking into Kyungsoo’s eyes, feeling Kyungsoo’s breath on his lips, smelling Kyungsoo’s cologne—and he’s lost in the moment.

“Chanyeol?” breathes Kyungsoo, winded and staring down at the other’s parted lips.

“Yeah?” he says, all but gasping simply from _proximity_. His tongue darts out a moment, wetting the lips capturing Kyungsoo’s attention.

“You gonna kiss me already?”

Chanyeol chuckles lightly, leaning into Kyungsoo. The tips of their noses brush lightly against each other. “Yeah,” he answers, swallowing nervously. “Just...give me a minute.”

“I can’t wait that long,” he whispers, grabbing Chanyeol by the front of his shirt and pulling him to his lips. As the room fills with the sudden intakes of breath and the low rumble from Chanyeol’s chest, Kyungsoo realizes that somehow he has been waiting since they met to be kissed like this.

Chanyeol’s hands slip from the wall, finding Kyungsoo’s shoulders and squeezing breathy, satisfying sounds from the other. He pulls himself closer, knees sliding over the couch on either side of Kyungsoo’s legs until he’s straddling him. It’s a little unwieldy, blindly groping and he knows he could easily pull apart and position himself comfortably—but he also knows that he doesn’t want to stop kissing Kyungsoo, maybe ever. His lips yield and part so sweetly for Chanyeol, head tilted back and palms resting on his waist and hip.

When Chanyeol does break away (for air), Kyungsoo’s pupils are blown wide and he looks like he’s struggling to control his breathing. Chanyeol does no such thing, he’s near panting; the way Kyungsoo’s thumb is stroking the jut of his pelvic bone _really_ isn’t helping that front. Kyungsoo pushes himself up again, trying to reach Chanyeol as he’s hovering above him, just out of kissing range.

Chanyeol grins smugly, sitting tall and tightening his knees around Kyungsoo’s thighs. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Two can play at that game. Without warning, Kyungsoo slams Chanyeol’s ass down on his legs, forcing him to sit. He yelps, thumb pressing into Kyungsoo’s collarbone in surprise.

Chanyeol shudders. He wants to demand what that was for, but he likes Kyungsoo in control so much he’s afraid his voice will crack when he asks.

Kyungsoo smirks, though Chanyeol is heavier than he looks. He grabs his ass and pulls him closer until their pelvises meet at the middle, making Chanyeol gasp at the sudden, heavy hardness against his own. “You started it,” quips Kyungsoo with a surprising pout. “Now kiss me again.”

Chanyeol’s stomach drops, mouth falling open against Kyungsoo’s in compliance. This is out of order, he realizes. He’s never done it like this before. Everything’s upside down and twisted around and Kyungsoo _loves_ him and he’s pretty _damn_ sure he loves him back and—this is all so very, blindingly shiny bright new. Chanyeol has always liked new: new lover, new hat, new bike, etc. But not like this. It’s never been like this. It has always been the newest version of the latest thing, but Kyungsoo is like no one and nothing he has ever tasted. New has never been scary, but this is. He’s finally gone “off-script,” and for _fuck’s_ sake Kyungsoo knows too much about him, and he still loves him.

He loves him. And Chanyeol _definitely_ loves him back.

So Chanyeol just lets everything happen to him, submits himself to Kyungsoo. He’s clumsy and useless and fumbling and stuttering on easy, practiced words—as if all his experience, all his knowledge means nothing, and now all he knows how to be is _Kyungsoo’s_.

It doesn’t take Chanyeol long before he’s so hard it almost _hurts_. He attempts, “Um, you got any—?”

“Lube?” interrupts Kyungsoo, licking his lips quickly in a way that nearly sets Chanyeol off balance. “You want to?”

“I just. Sorry, this is too fast, I just…”

“It’s not that,” says Kyungsoo, pulling up Chanyeol’s shirt. Chanyeol obligingly lifts his arms to free it. “It’s just...the couch? I share this with Jongin and Baekhyun…”

“What, you don’t think they’ve done it on every surface of this place?”

Kyungsoo grins wryly. “Good point.” He then traces the waistline of Chanyeol’s boxers peeking out over his jeans. He smirks a little, knowing Chanyeol has a bit of a subby side, experimentally asks, “What do you want me to do to you?”

Chanyeol gives himself a moment to fully appreciate how hot that was, then takes ahold of Kyungsoo’s hands and guides them over his crotch. He’d be happy with this, he’d be happy to use Kyungsoo’s hands to jerk himself off, but he wants _more_ , he wants…He looks into Kyungsoo’s eyes. “You _know_.”

With surprising might, Kyungsoo hooks his arms under Chanyeol’s thighs, lifts him, and flips him back onto the couch. “Stay,” he commands.

Chanyeol is on the fence whether or not he wants to admit how that one word made his dick jump. Despite all his fuss earlier about shared living spaces, Kyungsoo seems really keen to fuck Chanyeol on this couch. This change of tune is something Chanyeol is more than willing to groove to.

Kyungsoo comes back promptly, lube and a condom in each hand. “Undress,” he instructs.

Chanyeol hastily complies, babbling as he does, “I’ve never...I mean, I’ve _been_ with guys but...not like this…”

“Chanyeol?” says Kyungsoo, joining him on the couch and spreading his legs. “Shut up.”

Chanyeol pantomimes zipping his lip, and considers “throwing away the key” before he has a better idea: he holds up and out his pinched fingers, and places “it” carefully in the palm of Kyungsoo’s hand. The hand dips as though real weight is pressed into it, like some tangible promise injected into a stupid, silly gesture. The key to his lips, the key to his heart. Kyungsoo wants to be revolted by such a corny, cheesy thing but he finds himself elated, and this pleasant, inexplicable buzzing at the base of his skull that then falls down through his body. And that fall brings him further in love with this idiot, who now after presenting this invisible, imaginary key has been made _his_ idiot.

This is made even more evident by the way Chanyeol gives under him, pulls his fingers in and rides them so well. He’s wanton and needy and dazedly reaching for Kyungsoo. His fingers hook under Kyungsoo’s bent knee where he’s sitting comfortably, casually undoing Chanyeol, to pull him closer.

“You _sure_ you haven’t done this before?” asks Kyungsoo, far from stoic as he uses his other hand to tease Chanyeol’s balls with the tips of his fingers. His dick twitches with a groan as he’s opened wider for him. “You’re being so good.”

Chanyeol swears under his breath, chest heaving and glittering with sweaty effort. “ _Kyungsoo_...” he whispers.

Kyungsoo unzips his pants, long overdue. He pulls at Chanyeol’s thighs, draping them over his own. Their cocks barely brush against each other but Kyungsoo still has to bite his lip in restraint.

Chanyeol’s eyes are closed, muttering, “Please, please, _please_ ,” under his breath.

Kyungsoo considers asking him to speak up, but he’s too gone himself. Once the condom is on, he enters him slowly, at least, gentle for the most part. One hand slides up his torso, steadying him. Chanyeol only keeps muttering Kyungsoo’s name, lost in sensation.

“Chanyeol,” says Kyungsoo, grinding into him. “Chanyeol. Look at me.”

Chanyeol does, eyes too big but still heavily-lidded. Kyungsoo pulls on Chanyeol’s wrists, pulling him closer until Chanyeol is sitting up on his lap. He’s now so much taller than him like this, spread over his thighs, but Kyungsoo hardly cares anymore. He slips his full lips around a nipple and Chanyeol cradles his neck, moaning low. Chanyeol rests his lips on Kyungsoo’s hairline, trying to distract himself from the way his dick feels against Kyungsoo’s shirt. It’s just rough enough to keep him on the cusp of orgasm, but then Kyungsoo pushes him back to pull it off. His abdomen is soft and glorious and Chanyeol really can’t last long at the pace they’re going now—

Kyungsoo cries out the same time Chanyeol comes, clenching around him; then hums sweetly, languidly bringing himself to the same height, still thrusting inside Chanyeol. He’s overstimulated and mumbling but Kyungsoo can’t hear him from the roaring in his ears and the heat in his belly. Then his hips stutter and he shudders inside him, biting down on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

It takes them more than a few moments to gather themselves, and Chanyeol is the first to recuperate, carefully lifting himself off of Kyungsoo. Diligently, quietly, he cleans Kyungsoo off, even removes and throws away the condom.

“Chanyeol?” murmurs Kyungsoo, eyes hazy in the high. For a moment, he’s afraid that he’s leaving him, but then he returns to the couch and wraps his arms around his middle.

Kyungsoo has _no_ idea whatsoever how Chanyeol still has the strength to even stand after that—he has always come across as the kind of dude who passes out post-orgasm—let alone lift _anything_ , but Chanyeol (still naked) manages to lift Kyungsoo up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Chanyeol!” protests Kyungsoo when he pats his ass, but he’s not really mad.

He sets him down gently in his own bed and curls up beside him. Of course he’s a snuggler.

“You know…” he begins, settled with his hands linked at Kyungsoo’s hip, “we are looking for another housemate.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” warns Kyungsoo playfully. “Besides, I think Jongin and Baekhyun would die of starvation without me. And I already said, I like being neighbors.”

“Are you sure that’s what you said?” he asks cheekily. “Sure sounded like you _lo_ —”

“I’m very comfortable right now, don’t make me hit you with this pillow.”

“It’s okay,” assures Chanyeol. He kisses Kyungsoo’s cheek and whispers, “I love you too.”

Kyungsoo hits him with his pillow.


End file.
